Unfinished Tales
by Lennister
Summary: A few unfinished stories by me, Lennister, and one prompt.
1. Untitled Story DM HP

Draco laid in bed with his staring at the ceiling while listening to his iPod. The lights were off and he pretended to be sleeping, though he was fully clothed and wide awake. In his right hand he held his cell phone.

…_the tide is turning…your eyes are burning…my days are numbered…the future is crumbled. _Draco quietly sang to himself.

_Imagine of moments lost in our hold, things we missed that might have changed our lives…_

Draco took a deep sigh. He opened his cell phone and looked at it. There were clearly no missed calls, and no new text messages. Draco was unsure what to do. He scrolled down through his phone list until he got to Harry's number and stopped. He stared at it a moment debating whether or not to call him. Draco then brought up a sub menu on his phone bringing him to a textual input and with his thumb he began to write out a message to Harry:

_Harry,_

_No one has ever made me feel loved like you make me feel, _

_No one has._

_And the love I feel for you right now is burning inside me. I didn't know, I'm sorry Harry. _

_Help me; help us to save what we have together. I would not be the same without you._

_Please…just answer me, say anything, just something so I know your still there._

_Drakes_

Draco's phone beeped saying "Message sent". With a sigh he closed his phone and set it on his stomach hoping Harry would respond quickly. Draco replayed the song he was listening to.

A few minutes later Draco got up to use the bathroom and he took his phone with him. It was nice having one's own bathroom, unlike Hogwarts where everyone had to share the same bathrooms. After Draco relieved his bladder he stared at his dark reflection in the mirror. The waning moon gave off enough light so Draco could see a ghostly visage of himself.

Half of Draco's face was hidden by the darkness and the other half was partially lit by the moonlight.

The darkness surrounding Draco made him feel even more alone, more empty.

_Harry…where are you?_

Draco leaned forward bracing himself on the marble sink's round edge. As he did his entire head became enveloped by the darkness.

_Night of nights, keep me in you._


	2. Untitled Story 2 HPWorld of Darkness

AU OOC Slash Harry Potter/Olde World Of Darkness crossover

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters by JK Rowling or any of the World of Darkness setting by White Wolf.

The new world had opened up opportunities that had never existed before. Many folks from the olde world made there way to the new world, taking with them the hopes of a new life. But some of those folks merely saw an opportunity to expand their influence and control over those weaker than themselves. Like a chess game slowly played out over the centuries, those in power maneuvered important people to their own advantage, trying to stay five moves ahead of the other player, not always seeing clearly the final outcome of their actions.

What happens when those behind the scenes try to use folks from the Wizarding world to their own ends? Will the boy who lived still be able to fulfill his prophecy or will he find himself alone in a world of darkness?

Title Here

By

Lennister

Chapter 1

The nosferatu primagon read through (name here) half scribbled notes carefully.

The 60 watt bulb did not provide much in the way of reading light, but then he didn't need that much. His vision was better than 20/20 even in the blackness of the sewers.

The notes were written on the backs of old receipts, or on the sides of torn newspapers. He reprinted these notes in a more legible fashion, using a pen and spiral notebook.

_The world of these "wizards and witches" remains unseen to us; though I have seen some of them disappear into the side of a brick wall, or into a marble post. Where they end up is anybody's guess. _

_Their abilities are most unusual. They appear completely human, except that they are 'gifted' with these 'magical' powers. _

_In the fall he leaves to the Underground and when he gets to King's Cross he walks into a brick support beam and disappears with his belongings. I have also observed other of these people doing the same thing, always with their children. And then the parents leave without them. Where are the children going? Some kind of school for magic perhaps? And in late spring the parents go back and come out of this brick beam with their children again. I have been following one particular boy who seems to have no parents. He arrives alone and leaves alone, though one time he arrived with a family of all red headed children and left with them once. His name is Harry and lives on Pivot Drive. Perhaps we could use him to understand more this mysterious group of people._

(name here) kept reading through the years worth of notes. Of all those that (name here) has followed, this Harry kid seemed to be the one most approachable.

(name here) finished his research and stood up leaving the notebook on the table. He made his way out of his hovel and into the main sewer corridor where two of his personal guards were standing with AK-47's. A fecal strewn stream ran constantly carrying the waste products of those who lived on the surface through a vast underground complex, one that was well mapped out by its residents. Every crack, crevice, entrance, and exit thoroughly explored.

(name here) continued down the passage and then turned left going down another one. After a lengthy walk with several left and right turns (name here) finally reached another hovel the doorway of witch was only an old ragged maroon colored curtain stained with all manner of filth. It was much darker than it had been when it came off the production line.

" NH , you there?" asked nh sternly.

A hoarse voice replied. nh sounded like he had been smoking cigarettes for the last hundred years or so.

"Yeah…" nh said pulling back the funk encrusted drape. nh walked in to nh room. Junk of all types littered the floor and make shift shelves. A small school desk was in the corner covered with bits of paper and trash. nh assumed he had interrupted nh writing.

_How long have they been with us? Since the time of the crucifixion? Longer? _

_How is it that they been able to keep their secret this long? We must find out more…_


	3. The Broken Edge of Love

The Broken Edge of Love

By

Lennister

Severus Snape moved to the front of the class and then turned to face the students. He looked them over for a second. Severus's eyes always ended up on Harry Potter, just like they had the first two years Harry had attended his class. Harry's face was smooth. Behind his spectacles were deep green eyes that saw the world with fascination and fear. Harry had already experienced a lot in his short lifetime, Severus knew that, yet Harry still had his innocence about him, though he was becoming more cautious when dealing with other wizards now, even ones his own age. Severus had to force his gaze else where, lest his students became aware of his fascination with Harry. Snape looked down at the book he was holding. "Who can tell me where we left off Friday?" Snape asked the students.

"Chapter 8, page 247." Hermione answered very assuredly sounding. She was right of course, and in fact she already had her book open to page 247. She remembered where each class had left off and had on more than one occasion reminded the teachers of where they were in their studies, with a few times not even being asked by the teachers, much to their annoyance. Hermione really couldn't understand why it was so hard for teachers to keep up with their own class. Of course she didn't take into account that they were teaching more than one class a day, five days a week also.

"Correct. Now everyone turn to said page, and we will begin." Severus instructed looking up, but making sure he was looking at the opposite side of the class Harry was sitting on so as not to provoke suspicion. This was Severus's most difficult part of the day. He wanted so dearly to get to know Harry better, to become friends, to become lovers. However, he knew he had to take things slow. After all Harry was a student, a minor, and Severus was a teacher. For them to be in a relationship other than student-teacher had to be approached with great discretion, otherwise Severus could find himself in a real bind with the Council of Wizardry, which strictly forbids such correlations. Severus continued on with the lesson of how to make a potion of water breathing and tried to forget Harry was in the same room but that, of course, was impossible.

Harry sat their half listening to Snapes mono-drab lecture. He was thinking about his time with Draco yesterday. He wished badly he could make the week fast forward to next Sunday so they could spend time with each other again. _Six bloody days until I can see you again Draco. _Harry thought to himself.

He thought back to three weeks ago when it all began between Draco and Harry. Harry was down in the kitchen getting a late night snack and Malfoy walked in for the same reason. That's when they actually began to really open up and talk to one another. Draco had been wanting to get to know Harry since first year but he didn't know how to approach him since Harry was a Gryffindor and Draco a Slytherian. Draco's peers certainly wouldn't approve, and Draco's dad had always taught him to be patient. 'Sometimes things just fall into place' his father had said to him on more than one occasion and their meeting in the kitchen certainly proved his dad's words true. Harry had gone back down to the kitchen the next night just to see if Malfoy would come back down also. Sure enough Malfoy showed up and they talked until 3 AM in the morning before they both reluctantly went back to there dorms because another Slytherian had come in the kitchen for a snack.

That is when Draco came up with a plan for both of them to meet secretly on Sundays for a couple of hours. Harry couldn't think about anything except Draco Malfoy. That's all he thought about from waking to sleeping and even sometimes dreaming. Harry remembered a joke Draco told him yesterday and he laughed to himself. Harry's thoughts drifted to when they had gone out to the Quidditch pitch later yesterday afternoon and went up into one of the stands chasing each other. Soon they were up in the stands at the very bottom row looking out over the Quidditch pitch and talking about their lives.

"Well then can I get a volunteer to come up and mix the vials?" Snape asked the rest of the class. Hermione's arm immediately came up. No one else raised their arm. "Very well miss Grainger." Snape said as though he was tired of her being the only one to readily participate in class, and really he was.


	4. It's a Muggle's World

Prologue

A black haired man wearing a dark blue suite holding a brown briefcase stepped off of the train and into the Ravenscourt Park station. He looked around casually and then walked over to the newspaper stand. It was a lone metal box that took coins and wasn't much higher than his waist. It had the words "London Globe" in white on a red background. The well dressed man put in two coins and opened the hatch getting a newspaper. He briefly scanned the front page and then folded it in half and tucked it under his arm neatly as he walk off. He saw a bench and made his way to it. People were coming and going from the station. It was evening time which meant most of those people were coming home from work. He sat down on the metal bench setting the briefcase next to him on the ground in an upright fashion and then opened up the newspaper and opened it to the financial section reading it through. After a few minutes a woman who was wearing a dress outfit and also carrying a brown briefcase sat down next to him setting her briefcase next to his. He didn't look up, but instead just kept reading the paper. The brunette looked at her watch and casually looked around and then looked over at the man sitting next to her.

"Excuse me" she said softly. The man pulled the paper down from in front of him and turned his head over to the woman.

"Yes?"

"May I read the Classifieds, I mean if you're not reading them of course" she said smiling. The man looked at his watch then looked back at the woman.

"Tell ya what, just take it. My train is almost here." He responded handing her the paper.

"Thank you" She said taking the paper and opening it up to the classified section. The man reached over to her briefcase and took it. He walked away to the train which had just pulled in and got on board. After a short ride he exited off of Earl's Court and made his way to the Thistle Hotel where he got a one bedroom for a one week stay. When he got up to the room he had a quick look around to make sure everything was in order. He sat the briefcase down on the bed and turned on the TV.

sat down next to the man reading the newspaper. He lifted up a brown tool box and set it next to him. He opened it up and pulled the top tool holder off and peered in at what was underneath examining its contents. He carefully set the top tool holder back and closed the tool box. He set it back down on the floor next to the bed and reached for his pack of cigarettes on the night stand. He pulled one out and lit it. Then went over to the TV and grabbed the remote that was sitting on top of it turning on the TV with the press of a button. He walked back over to the bed and tossed the remote onto it. The lightly built man kneeled down at the base of the bed and reached underneath it pulling back a brown leather briefcase. He sat on the floor and opened it up. There was numerous news paper clippings inside underneath which was a map of London and surrounding locales and underneath the map was a green spiral notebook. He took all of this out and opened the map up. Small red circles with numbers inside them were on different areas of the map. He then moved the briefcase to his side and laid the map out in front of him. He leaned over slightly closely studying the map. He then straightened up and put the briefcase back in front of him laying it on the map. He then took out the green notebook and began reading through it. There was a long list of people's names with numbers written out to the side of them on the first and second pages. The third page had addresses and telephone numbers.

Chapter 1

A Stranger at Dinner Time


	5. Prompt 1

20 minutes/homeless/unique

The fresh air seldom reached down into Knockturn Alley and today was no different. The stench of the residents here hung in the morning air. Stragglers and stray cats made there way here and there, none seemed to be in much of a hurry to get where they were going, if they were indeed going anywhere. One of the stragglers, an old warlock named Grimces, who wore a dark green wide brimmed hat and a dirty green cloak, limped his way through a narrow underpass with the assistance of an old wooded tree branch which he seemed to be using as a make shift cane. As he walked through he stepped onto a lump of dark red and black rags which moved slightly and made a sort of groan.

"Blasted bums!" Grimces yelled stopping to look down at the pile of filth.

The pile of rags made a sound of someone struggling to wake up.

"On with you!" Grimces shouted as he jabbed his brown cane into the pile.

Suddenly someone rose out of the rags holding there arm over there head.

"Stop it!" a voice cried.

"Get up you filthy little Gryffondufus, and get out of my Alley!" Grimces hollered at the young man who was trying to get up.

The young man rose to his knees and quickly began getting his things together. He rummaged through the decaying cloth finding his few possessions and hastily putting them into his tattered black robe. There was a small leather bound book, a vile with a soupy green liquid, a half eaten loaf of bread wrapped in a white stained cloth, and a small round patch that looked as though it had been ripped off of a shirt or uniform.

"I'll take that!" Grimces grabbed the man's bread. The young man tried to take it back but Grimces 'smacked the man on the side of his head and he fell crying out in pain dropping his patch.

"Oh what's this then?" Grimces bent down and picked the patch up. It was the symbol of the Gryffindor quidditch team. Grimces threw it down onto the man's face smirking.

"Trash!"

"Please sir, that's all the food I have…" the man whimpered as blood trickled from an open cut where Grimces had struck him.

"Oh listen to the once great Gryffindor quidditch player, Oliver Wood, 'please sir it's all the food I have…', my how you've fallen from grace."

"Damn you!" Oliver yelled.

Grimces kneeled down in front of Oliver and pulled his head up by his brown hair.

"If I see you again in my alley I'll take you and use you for spare parts, understand me boy?"

Oliver griped Grimces forearm but to no avail. Grimces was older and stronger; Oliver looked at him in his light blue eyes. Grimces words rang true, regardless of Oliver's present situation.

"Yes." Oliver acknowledged bitterly.

Grimces smiled. "Good, now get out!" Grimces shouted into Oliver's face hatefully. Oliver got up as fast as he could and made his way around, and after a few blocks and a few turns down various corridors he found a nice quiet spot between to wooded barrels which were being used as trash cans, and smelled like they were holding trash from a hundred years ago, but Oliver was pretty sure he wasn't going to be bothered here anytime soon.

Oliver was very hungry and he pilfered through the barrels and found a half eaten bread stick and a small chunk of cooked meat. Both were old and stale but he ate them anyway. After eating them his stomach felt queasy but it passed after an hour or so. Oliver took out his book and opened it. He read a few of the last pages that he had written in it and then pulled out a quill and small vile of black ink and began writing.

_Day 43_

_The residents here have not been particularly kind. This morning a warlock named Grimces hit me in the head and stole my bread from me. I am not sure how much longer I can hold out down here. Everyone seems to be ready to hit and spit at me, instead of helping me. This place is much different than Hogwarts. Such fond memories I have of that place. They keep my heart warm as my flesh grows cold. I haven't had a bath in ages and I am only able to find food once every few days. I want to write some of my old friends, but what would I tell them? Sometimes I think about writing Dumbledore, maybe he would let me stay there. I would gladly clean or wash whatever it took to earn my keep. But I'm too ashamed to._

_I should have known better to trust a Slytherian. Damn them all anyway. _

Oliver took out his patch and traced its image with his right forefinger. A deep sadness filled his heart and tears began to stream down his face.

Oliver closed his book and looked at the patch one more time and then put it away in his robe. He wiped the tears from his eyes and off of his face and laid his head back against the cold red brick wall sighing to himself. After thinking for a while he laid down on the cobble stone and fell asleep.

Two figures who had been watching Oliver moved out of the shadows and walked up to him.

"Is this the one Grimces told us to bring back to him then?" the taller one asked.

"Yeah." The shorter man said.

"You shu'e? I mean, I don't wants to be takin' the wrong body back to Grimces."

"Yeah, it's 'em." The shorter one said after a moment. "'sides, any body will do for Grimces, as long as he gets a right fresh one to experiment on."

The taller man shrugged and the shorter one pulled out a knife and grabbed Oliver by the head pulling it back and quickly made a horizontal cut along Oliver's neck. There was a brief struggle from Oliver and then the sound of choking. Soon no movement came from Oliver and the tall man picked him up and threw him over his shoulder and they carried him of to Grimces.


End file.
